


Still Waters Run Deep

by Emerald



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-31
Updated: 2009-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald/pseuds/Emerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One thing you learn when you live forever: it's not to get too set in anything; 'cause it's all gonna change. Just when it seems like everything is going your way and you're maybe even patting yourself on the back. That's when it happens...Your best friend suddenly decides to up and declare he’s in love with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Waters Run Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the small fandom fest on LiveJournal

_  
One thing you learn when you live forever: it's not to get too set in anything; 'cause it's all gonna change. Just when it seems like everything is going your way and you're maybe even patting yourself on the back. That's when it happens...   
_

_…Your best friend suddenly decides to up and declare he’s in love with you._

Mick sat hunched, white knuckled over the steering wheel as he pointed the front of a car in the direction of home, and pressed his foot to the accelerator. Eyes transfixed on the road ahead, he counted off passing clicks of light as headlights illuminated reflective markers, and tried his best not to be too distracted by Josef seated next to him, loudly guzzling a mixture of Scotch, and AB Negative from a bottle held in his hand.

So far, Mick thought, he was doing ok.

“You want to talk about what just happened back there?” Josef drained the last dregs of the concoction he had been drinking, and screwed the lid back on the bottle, before tossing it on the floor near his feet.

Mick didn’t reply. He chose to pretend, for the moment at least, that he hadn’t heard a word Josef had spoken, and suddenly became particular fascinated with a section of road, approximately ten metres in front of the hood of the car, instead.

“Still waters run deep hey, Mick?” Josef stole a quick glance, Mick’s eyes focused so intently on the vast stretch of black nothing that rolled out in front of them, and then snorted a laugh.

Josef fell silent then, and resumed his own reverie of staring out the passenger side window, losing himself in his own mix of thoughts, and images.

He wasn’t one to talk when it came to deep waters as metaphor for tides of emotion. Josef knew that, he would never admit it to anyone else, but deep down he knew. If Mick’s own emotions were a deep well of glass surfaced blackness, rippling, on occasion, with the ebb and flow of lunar tides that tugged at its depths, then his were a veritable torrent that frothed, and churned and threatened to broil over, held in check only by the sheer force of a dam, slowly erected over the previous four something centuries.

Mick might have worn his heart on his sleeve, but Josef wore his in a well constructed paper bag, that threatened to burst open, and spill its contents onto the ground beneath at any moment, clutched tight to his chest.

Not less than a half an hour ago, they had both been at an out of the way Jazz club, tucked away in the Pasadena Foothills, enjoying Vamp friendly service and drinking the blood, and alcohol that free flowed from veins, and liquor bottles alike.

And then Josef, standing alongside Mick at the bar, and swaying precariously under the effects of one too many, whiskey laced blood streams, had draped his arm around Mick’s shoulder and slurred into the side of Mick’s neck,

“You know I love you.”

Mick, swaying slightly under the effects of his own consumption, had responded in kind.

“Yeah, I love you too, buddy.”

And Mick had been telling the truth, he did love Josef, in that chest pounding; back slapping way that men do. But Josef had meant something else entirely. Josef had meant he was _ in _love with Mick, and as if to emphasise that point he had suddenly gripped Mick’s face with his hands, and kissed him.

Josef had ended up landing six feet across the other side of the room then, knocked flying by a well placed fist connecting with his jaw.

Mick really hadn’t meant to hit Josef quite that hard. The feeling of Josef’s lips pressed against his own had just taken him by surprise, the punch had been no more than a reflex reaction, fuelled by his own Vampiric strength.

Or so Mick kept trying to tell himself, hoping if he repeated the idea often enough he could eventually manage to convince himself of its unwavering fact.

The truth of the matter was that _he_ had _enjoyed _ it. The moment Josef’s mouth had covered his own Mick had felt his skin flush warm. His blood pressure elevated slightly, his heart rate, fuelled by a recent intake of fresh blood, quickened, and he had felt his cock stir, and begin to harden, straining against the confines of his jeans.

And that is what had eventually set Josef sailing, carried through the air on the end of Mick’s knuckles.

“How’s the jaw?” Mick decided to try and make conversation then, needing to distract himself from the cloying atmosphere of the car that seemed to weigh in on him from all sides.

“It’s fine,” Josef made an exaggerated display of clicking his jaw back and forth, and massaging it with his fingers, “I’ll live. You may pack a mean punch for a Vampire your age, Mick St John.”

Josef chortled in amusement, and arched an eyebrow in Mick’s direction.

“Yeah, well,” Mick turned to face Josef only briefly, before fixing his eyes on the road dead ahead, once more, “you probably shouldn’t have done what you did, you know, with the whole ‘lip’ thing, and all that.”

“The whole ‘lip thing’?” Josef pressed his fist against his mouth, and stifled another laugh, “I think it’s called a kiss, Mick. I kissed you, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Mick swallowed away a nervous lump that had risen in his throat, and nodded a reluctant admittance.

“And…did you enjoy it?”

Josef’s tone held a pointed note. And Mick knew Josef had already observed him pressing the pads of his fingers absentmindedly against his lips, stroking them experimentally over the slightly chapped, fleshy surface, and trying to recall what Josef’s own lips had felt like as they had pressed against his.

“So, what are you, exactly?” Mick refused to answer Josef’s probing, and shifted the focus of the conversation over to Josef instead.

The question wasn’t entirely off topic. Mick knew Josef enjoyed the company of men, from time to time. He’d even had a boyfriend, of sorts, when Mick had first been introduced to him.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I, exactly’?” Josef’s expression fell genuinely puzzled then. “I’m a Vampire. You knew that already, Mick.”

“Yeah, I know that, Josef.” Mick scrunched his brow, and tried not to lose patience with Josef’s lack of understanding. “I meant, what are you, sexually? What’s your orientation, or whatever the correct term for it is?”

“My orientation?” Josef pretended to look perfectly studious for the moment, as he gazed out the front windshield of the car, and stared at the road ahead, brow furrowed with concentration. “Well, we’re currently travelling on a northbound highway leading back into the city of Los Angeles, and,” He dampened a finger with spit, and then stuck it out the rolled down window of his passenger side door, “the wind appears to be blowing in a slightly westerly direction, on an angle, so…”

“…Very funny, Josef.” Mick cut Josef’s words off mid-sentence with an indignant huff, and then shot him a brief, disapproving glare.

“I’m sorry.” Josef’s apology was genuine, the tone of his voice softer. “I don’t have any orientation, Mick. I’m just a Vampire, that’s all,” Josef grinned then, and trailed an exaggerated hand through the air in front of him, “I am, what I am.”

“Josef Kostan, I swear to God if you start singing show tunes, I am going to pull this car over to the side of the road, and you can damn well get out and walk the rest of the way.”

Mick tried to look stern, but the effect was lost as they both dissolved into fits of laughter. It felt relaxed, easy then. Just like it always was between them, before the ‘event’.

Mick laughed to himself and wondered if that’s how they would both mark the passing of time from now on, dividing calendars into delineations of ‘before the event’, and ‘after the event’. Mick pictured himself writing the date at hand on top of his ledger pad of case notes, a series of numbers and dashes, followed by the letters, a, t and e.

The rest of the drive home was spent mostly in silence. Comfortable this time at least. And then Mick was pulling his car into the parking space just outside his apartment block, and switching off the engine. And the moment had passed.

They sat, silent, and still, as the seconds ticked by, neither of them willing to make the first move, uncertain of what the next move should be.

And then they were both talking at the same time, their words piling on top of one another in a jumble of vowels and consonants.

“Do you want me to...?”

“…So, do you wanna…?”

“Come up?”

“For a drink,” Mick let out a nervous laugh, and held up his hands in a gesture of hurried clarification, “just for a drink.”

“Well I had already figured a blow job was out of the question, Mick.” Josef scoffed with good humour, and pretended to raise an indignant brow.

Mick didn’t answer, choosing instead to press the release button on his seatbelt, and then scramble out through the open driver’s side door of the car in a sudden rush of movement.

Josef hesitated for a moment, and then followed suit.

Upstairs, standing at the threshold of Mick’s apartment, Mick rummaged frantically through pockets of clothing for the set of his keys he knew he surely must have had on him when he left.

Josef shifted alongside him, and covered Mick’s hand with his own, his other hand reaching into the right hand pocket of Mick’s jeans. Mick felt Josef’s fingers accidentally brush against the base of his cock, and he chewed on his bottom lip, and bit back the urge to groan with approval.

For a fleeting moment their eyes locked, and they were being drawn inexorably towards one another, breath synchronising, and heart rates rising.

“Ah, there it is.” Josef fingers found their target, and he drew the electronic security pad from Mick’s pocket, and aimed it at the fortified door. “See,” Josef cocked his head and gave Mick a Cheshire cat smile, “you don’t actually have a set of keys to get into your apartment.”

And once again, the moment had passed.

Inside, Josef sauntered gracefully over to Mick’s black leather couch, and flopped down elegantly to lie on his back stretched out along its length. His head propped up against the armrest, and one arm tucked behind his head.

“You want something to drink?” Mick shifted into the role of the gracious host then, “I don’t have any AB Negative, but I think I might be able to rustle some fresh O Negative?”

Josef nodded graciously and said, “Please.”

“Here.” Mick returned with a bottle filled with thick, crimson liquid and pressed it into Josef’s outstretched hand.

Josef’s finger brushed lightly against Mick’s as he accepted Mick’s offering. And once again, Mick felt a now familiar hum of electricity passing through him.

Mick cleared his throat, and pulled his hand away, a little too quick for it not to be obvious, and then took a seat on the armchair opposite the couch where Josef now lay.

“So, ah,” Mick drew breath to speak, and picked at imaginary pieces of lint on the sleeve of his shirt, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, “how long has this been going on for, roughly?”

Mick made an encompassing hand gesture to indicate what _‘this’_ was, as if Josef needed that point made clear to him.

Josef stared up at the ceiling, and pretended to be deep in thought, peering back through centuries gone by, his brow lined with an effort of concentration.

“Well, I guess it all started back in 1603. I was a precocious child, four years of age, and my Father was often absent from the family home…”

“Josef,” Mick groaned, and scrubbed frustrated hands over his face, “do you think you could possibly just try and be serious at least once in your life?”

“I was being serious, Mick,” Josef’s words were spoken in earnest then, all traces of his previous sarcasm having disappeared, “earlier, back at the bar. I might have been a little under the weather, but I meant what I said.”

“Yeah, yeah I know you did.” Mick averted his eyes, and let out a reluctant breath.

And then Josef was placing the bottle in his hand on the tiled floor next to the couch, and getting to his feet.

“Look, Mick, I think it’s probably best if I just go, ok? We’ll just give it a few days, and then forget this whole thing ever happened, business as usual.”

Josef forced a quick smile, and tried to wave a dismissive hand. And then he was making his way towards the door.

And in that moment, right then and there, Mick knew he couldn’t let Josef leave.

“Wait, Josef,” with a sudden, inhuman fluidity of movement, Mick shifted towards Josef, “don’t leave me, I mean... I…don’t go; I don’t want you to go, please.”

And then Mick was closing the almost imperceptible space between them, hands gripping Josef’s shoulders, fingers digging into flesh and muscle, drawing Josef close.

This time it was Mick’s lips pressing against Josef’s, Mick’s tongue probing the recesses of Josef’s mouth, hands shifting to explore cloth covered planes, and angles of musculature.

And this time, both of them new the moment wasn’t going to end.

Mick felt Josef’s body go limp; arms hanging at his side, letting Mick take the weight of him. And then Josef was drawing his arms around Mick’s waist, body pressed firm against his. And Mick could feel the reverberations humming through his chest, as Josef growled into his mouth, and began to manoeuvre him towards the doorway.

“How long, Josef?” Mick groaned as Josef impelled him against the door, and began to grind against him, thrusting, and riding against Mick’s body, Josef’s lips and tongue devouring Mick’s own.

“Years, Mick, decades.”

Josef’s hands went to Mick’s crotch, fingers squeezing, and rubbing Mick’s length through the denim covering of his fly. And then those same fingers were fumbling urgently with belt buckle and zipper, working deftly to release Mick from his constraints.

Mick moaned, and let his eyes fall shut, mouth hung open, and breath hitched as Josef’s fingers wrapped tight around his shaft and began to stroke.

“Oh, shit.”

“You want me to stop?” Josef halted his attentions for a moment.

Mick shook his head, and bit back another moan, fangs pricking his bottom lip, drawing droplets of blood that ran in two tiny rivulets down either side of his chin.

Josef chased those droplets with his tongue, his hand working a steady rhythm along the length of Mick’s cock, getting faster, pumping him from base to tip, thumb swirling over the head, coating it with pre-cum.

And then Josef was sinking to his knees in front of Mick, hands pulling Mick’s jeans and underwear down to his knees in one practiced move, fingers gripping the base of Mick’s cock, holding it steady. And Josef’s lips were covering him, taking Mick’s cock deep into his mouth, his tongue working its way in circles along Mick’s shaft, teasing the sensitive underside of the head.

Mick gasped, and rocked back on his heels to heighten the sensation, feeling his balls beginning to tighten, drawing up into his body.

He opened his eyes for a moment, and looked down, watching as Josef worked his own hand inside the now open fly of his suit pants. Fingers curled tight around his own length, hand working back and forth along his shaft, dampening the front of his boxers with pre-ejaculate.

“Oh…Jesus, Christ…Fuck!” And then Mick was gripping the back of Josef’s skull, needing something to hold onto to keep from toppling over as the orgasm tore through him, hard enough to leave him weak kneed, and shaken. Fangs sunk deep into the flesh of his own wrist, fluid hitting the back of Josef’s throat in a series of warm, wet pulsations.

Somewhere amidst the haze of his own pleasure, Mick was vaguely aware of Josef’s own fangs sinking into the side of his hip, Josef growling out the rhythm of his own release.

And then it was over, and Josef was getting to his feet, and adjusting himself back to a more respectable state, before drawing Mick into another embrace.

“You wanna stay the night?” Mick pressed his forehead against Josef’s, a single finger tracing the line of Josef’s jaw.

“Mick,” Josef leant back in Mick’s arms, and shook his head. The line of his mouth drawn in a pointed smile, “I really don’t think we’re ready to start playing happy families just yet.”

“No,” Mick snorted a sheepish laugh, “probably not.”

“Well, at least you know how I feel about you now.” Josef forced a quick smile, and then disentangled himself from Mick’s embrace.

“Yeah, I know.” Mick grabbed Josef’s arm as he turned to leave, spinning Josef back round to face him. And then Mick made an admission that surprised the both of them. “And I’m pretty sure I might feel the same way. I just don’t know if I’m…”

“…Ready for that just yet.” Josef had already pre-empted Mick’s words.

“No, not yet.” Mick shook his head, a note of regret creeping into his voice.

“You’ll break my heart one of these days; you know that, don’t you?”

Josef almost seemed resigned to that fate, and for a moment Mick didn’t know what to say.

“Josef, can you promise me just one thing?” Mick asked then, just as Josef gently pulled his arm from Mick’s grasp, and turned once more to go.

“What’s that, Mick?” Josef paused in the now open doorway.

“Whatever happens from now on, promise me we won’t lose what we already have.”

Josef turned heel to face Mick, a wide grin forming over his features, and made an extravagant bow.

“Whatever happens, we’ll always have Los Angeles.”

And then he was gone, walking out the door, and down the corridor leading away from Mick’s apartment, unable or unwilling to look back.

Leaving Mick to sink beneath his own deep waters once more.


End file.
